


Louder Than a Howler

by wynnebat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - The Soulmate Goose of Enforcement, Everybody Lives, F/M, Female Harry Potter, First Kiss, Fluff and Crack, Getting Together, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 07:12:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15944354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynnebat/pseuds/wynnebat
Summary: Harrie knows better than to believe in soulmate-assigning geese. But when one such flock decides her mate is George Weasley, she doesn't manage to fight fate very hard this time around.





	Louder Than a Howler

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Othalla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Othalla/gifts).



> Thanks for the inspiring prompt, Othalla! I hope you enjoy this silly thing :)

At eleven years old, young Harrie Potter doesn’t know much about wizards, witches, or the magical world at large. She and Ron have been comparing and contrasting the magical and muggle worlds for over an hour now, both full to the brim after making their way through Mrs. Weasley’s sandwiches and Harrie’s trolley haul, and Harrie’s learned enough to realize the magical world could be a whole different planet for all the differences it has to the muggle world.

“Muggles don’t have soulmates?” Ron eventually asks, pushing candy wrappers from his seat so that he’s able to lie down on the bench.

On the other side of the compartment, Harrie decides that’s a marvelous idea and does the same. She knows she shouldn’t be delighted by something as simple being able to stretch out on a train, but Ron doesn’t make fun of her for it. He doesn’t care that she doesn’t know much about magic or that she’s a girl or that her hair seems to have a life of its own. Ron is _great_.

That said, Harrie’s leaned to take Ron’s words with a grain of salt. “Soulmates?”

“You know, soulmates. The person you’re meant to be with for the rest of your life. My sister Ginny talks nonstop about how she can’t wait to meet hers, but that’s because she’s never seen any geese in real life. Mum and I got caught in the crowd when the geese came once and it was terrifying.” As though remembering that boys aren’t supposed to be scared of anything, Ron adds, “Don’t tell Fred and George I said that.”

“I won’t,” Harrie replies, feeling like she understands less now than she did a minute ago. “What do geese have to do with soulmates?”

“Everything, of course.” Ron stops there, but when he sees her expression, he adds, “When they smell a soulmate pair near each other, they track them down. That’s how you know who your soulmate is.”

Harrie can’t say she knows much about romance, but at least she knows more than Ron. She laughs. “Pull the other one.”

Ron laughs, too. “I’m telling the truth.”

Their conversation changes as Hogwarts comes into view, but later Harrie will think back on the whole thing with a smile. Her best mate really is a bit gullible. First the color-changing charm, then the sorting ceremony involving trolls, then soulmate geese? She blames it on her friend having too many older brothers. How Ron can still be this gullible after so many years of knowing Fred and George, Harrie has no idea.

*

“Oh yeah?” Malfoy yells, bristling over the fact that no one believes he didn’t just buy his way onto the team. They’re on the quidditch pitch again, just Harrie and Ron and Malfoy and his lackeys, and under the light drizzle Malfoy begins to resemble a wet cat. “If you don’t acknowledge my skills I’ll—”

“Tell on us to your dad, I know,” Harrie replies, rolling her eyes. “You’re the one who’s lurking in the stands during practice.”

“No, I’ll—” Malfoy shoots her a triumphant look. “I’ll send the geese after you!”

Well, the threat does make some sense. Sort of. Harrie’s more scared of Aunt Marge’s bulldogs, but she will readily admit that geese are angry, soulless creatures. But why geese?

Harrie turns to Ron, who can usually be trusted to explain odd wizarding turns of phrase. This time, however, Ron is frantically looking around, taking particular care with the direction of the Black Lake. They’re standing outside, so it’s conceivable that they could see some geese, but Harrie’s never seen geese at Hogwarts. Unless Malfoy can conjure some, they’re safe.

“Stay away from Harrie, you creep!” Ron yells back. “Or— or— I’ll send the geese after _you_.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Malfoy all but screeches.

They both seem to understand each other. Harrie looks to the sky, but the rains don’t unveil their secrets. She wonders if somehow Fred and George managed to get to all the underclassmen with their soulmate goose business. Or is the goose conspiracy larger than it seems? Oh Merlin, what if it’s all of Hogwarts?

Her frantic thoughts come to a halt as a figure appears in the Hogwarts doorway closest to the pitch. It’s one of the twins, and he yells, “Hey, dinner’s starting! If you stay out there any longer you’ll turn into mini Olivers!”

Harrie squints through her rain-covered glasses, but still identifies him as George rather than Fred. It’s a self-preservation technique, knowing which one is talking so that she can get them off-balance in return for the twins’ teasing. That’s all it is, really.

When George waves, she waves back to let him know she got the message.

Ron and Malfoy are still yelling about geese.

*

Parvati and Lavender aren’t the most studious girls, but with the exception of divination, they’re rather good at sorting through all the bullshit that regularly sweeps Harrie’s way. And yet, when Harrie walks into their cozy fifth year dorm, they’re giggling, and geese come up every few words. Harrie elects to step out of the room immediately.

“Geese, seriously,” Harrie mutters to herself, rolling her eyes.

And yet, there is a foreboding tingle down her spine.

She rejoins the common room, finding herself drawn into the chaos that dogs Fred and George’s steps. But unlike her own sort of chaos, theirs is fun and bright and full of laughter. She sinks into the one of the red Gryffindor armchairs and closes her eyes, the plush surrounding her frame in something like a hug. There is a bandage around her hand a Dark Lord outside the castle walls, but there’s also laughter from a game of exploding snap and Ginny’s loud play by play of the latest Puddlemere game.

When she opens her eyes, George is leaning in from the next couch over, a giant mug in his hand that he offers to her.

“What’s in it?” Harrie immediately says, not reaching out to take it.

George shoots her a completely false hurt look. “Just hot cider. I can’t believe you’d think I’d try to deceive Harrie Potter, highest scoring DADA student, generous silent partner, excellent seeker, dear friend...”

Harrie peers at him with deep suspicion as she takes the mug. It smells great. Even if she’s going to be puking her guts out in a few minutes, it might be worth it.

“...and trustworthy ally in our newest prank on Umbridge,” George says just as she takes a sip. “All hail Harrie Potter, our first line of defense against the evil toad.”

Harrie nearly succeeds in not laughing into the mug. Her throat hurts from the hot cider not going down properly, but she’s still smiling as she rests the mug on the side of the couch. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Forget Voldemort, forget geese. This is the life.

Even when she finishes the cider, she doesn’t feel any ill effects.

*

Harrie sits down across from Hermione. In the midst of students studying for their end of year exams, she’s entered the library without a single textbook or term paper draft. It’s a time of desperation, and Harrie even manages to avoid Madam Pince’s suspicious gaze by ducking into Hermione’s little study nook.

“The goose thing,” Harrie whispers immediately, because Hermione doesn’t engage in small talk when she’s so deep into study mode. It is perhaps not the best way to broach the topic, especially not when Hermione is deep into her sixth year exam studying, but she needs to know. As they get older, the magic soulmate goose joke is getting less and less funny. “It’s not real, right?”

“Oh, it’s all hogwash,” Hermione confirms without looking up from her textbook. “You know better than to believe them.”

“A weird running joke,” Harrie agrees with a relieved noise. “I mean, they can’t really...”

“I don’t, as a whole, place much stock in the common sense of wizardkind, but the idea of them actually taking this seriously is absurd.”

“Exactly,” Harrie says.

For some reason, she still doesn’t feel very hopeful.

It’s one of the last few lighthearted moments she has.

War strikes hard and fast, and within months, geese are the last thing on her mind. Her beloved mentor is gone, the ministry and Hogwarts have been taken, and she is cold and scared and young. She’s seventeen years old and the fate of the wizarding world is resting on her shoulders, with only Dumbledore’s cryptic messages to guide her. Pinpricks of light keep her world from shuddering into darkness: Hermione and Ron, six years’ worth of Molly’s knitted sweaters, Potterwatch. They tune into the wizarding radio show as often as they’re able. Ron’s look of relief is clear every time they hear the twins’ voices, and so is Harrie’s own.

Even in the worst of times, Fred and George are out there, reigning chaos and protecting innocents. And if Harrie pays attention to one voice a little more than the other, neither Ron nor Hermione mention it.

*

Later, when Voldemort is gone for good, leaving behind a finally healing scar on Harrie’s forehead and a Hogwarts in dire need of repairs, Hermione does mention it in that subtle way of hers. She meets Harrie on the path toward Hogsmeade. Harrie is meaning to diverge from the path and toward the Astronomy Tower cleanup, but Hermione links her arm through hers.

“Harrie, stop pining and help me with the greenhouses.”

“I’m not pining,” Harrie asserts. “I’m admiring. There’s a difference.”

It’s possible that she’d timed her arrival to coincide with George’s shift, and he’s currently shirtless as he helps move the crumbled boulders. Something about the rocks being oversaturated with magic and having to be physically moved. McGonagall had explained it last week, but Harrie’s attention had been otherwise occupied. Fred, Lee, and some other former students are helping, while Lavender is even more shameless than Harrie and has set up a picnic off to the side.

Before Harrie can decide between her options, George looks up and smiles brilliantly at her from across the lawn.

Thoughts are unnecessary.

“You’re hopeless,” Hermione sighs.

“Mm,” Harrie agrees.

But before her eyes, George’s expression goes flat with shock, and he begins to motion wildly in her direction. He yells something, but it’s drowned out by Colin yelling as he races down the Hogwarts lawn, away from the Black Lake.

“The geese are coming!”

Harrie’s just about had it with the geese joke. She turns around to see what all the fuss about, but her derision doesn’t last. Holy shit, those are actual geese chasing after Colin. A whole flock of huge, three-foot high geese honking louder than one of Mrs. Weasley’s howlers. She grabs Hermione’s arm and drags her away, deciding safety in numbers is their best bet.

Harrie nearly falls over as one of the geese nips at her heels. “Holy shit, why are they so big?”

“They’re magical geese!” Colin yells. “They’ve located a soulmate pair, keep running!”

Harrie abruptly realizes that she and Ron have been talking about two very different animals for the last seven years. She would’ve taken everyone’s warnings a lot more seriously if someone had just told her that these geese are big enough to eat her alive and deafen her with their honking. They’ve also blocked the entrances into the castle.

There is murder in their eyes, Harrie’s pretty sure. She jumps behind a greenhouse, finding George already crouching there.

“Did they follow you?” George asks, peering around the corner.

“I don’t think so.” Harrie breathes deeply, trying to catch her breath. Not only has it been a while since she’s had to run so fast, but George is shirtless and his hair is messy and dammit, just dammit.

A honk resonates from behind her. Harrie will never admit to the noise she makes as she spins around and finds a dozen geese have snuck up from behind her. They obviously have no fear of humans, shuffling until they encircle Harrie and George completely.

“We’re surrounded,” Harrie groans. She doesn’t want to hurt them with a blasting charm, but frantically thinking of other options doesn’t seem to be helping. Except… if it works on dementors, geese can’t be too different. “I’ve got it, I’ll call Prongs!”

“No need,” George says, awe coloring his voice. “It’s the soulmate circle.”

“The _what_.”

“When the Great Geese surround you within a circle, it means they’ve sensed the bond between two soulmates,” George explains.

Merlin, George doesn’t sound like he’s joking, but he _is_ a prankster. A prank that the whole wizarding world is in on seems a little common for one half of the Weasley twins, but then wizards do seem to be very into this goose thing. “How do we get them to leave?”

“A kiss,” George replies. There’s a light dusting of red between his freckles.

“A kiss?” Harrie repeats, raising an eyebrow. There already isn’t much space between them, and with the way the geese are closing in, there soon won’t be any space at all.

“Unless you don’t want to. Because that’s fine. We can find another way to escape.” George sounds reluctant, but he doesn’t move. There’s still a little humor in his brown eyes, but there’s also something deeply hopeful, something Harrie hoped for but never thought she’d see. “We can survive on mandrake leaves until McGonagall saves us.”

That won’t do. Harrie rather likes saving herself.

And Harrie rather likes George.

She takes half a step closer, the goose behind her immediately closing in so that she can’t go back. It’s unnecessary; Harrie doesn’t want to do anything else except press her lips against George’s. It’s a little bit completely perfect, even if there’s a goose feather tickling at her lower leg.

When they break apart, the geese are gone.

“Huh,” George says, grinning widely and still holding her close. “Hello, soulmate.”

And Harrie still doesn’t understand anything except for the fact that the wizarding world is completely and utterly bonkers, but George is good and funny and hot as hell.

“Yeah, okay,” Harrie says before she kisses him again.

She can deal with the whole soulmate business later. Much later. Right now, Harrie needs some time to properly appreciate her soulmate’s quidditch-toned arms and all those freckles.

*

(“I can’t believe you’re going along with all of this!” Hermione says. “I _trusted_ you. We’re supposed to keep each other sane.”

Harrie shrugs. “You try saying no to a whole flock of giant geese.”

“You didn’t even try, did you?”

“Nope. I’m keeping him.”)


End file.
